


Wherever the Wind Takes Me

by kurow



Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, it's post-berseria up through zestiria, meaning there's spoilers for both!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 14:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10721466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurow/pseuds/kurow
Summary: Eizen would tell him to steer his own ship, to determine his own course in life – but Zaveid was beginning to wonder if he really had any control over it at all.





	Wherever the Wind Takes Me

**Author's Note:**

> I love Eizen and I love Edna and I'm in hell.
> 
> By the way, I'm not trying to glorify chain-smoking in this story or anything, L O L. My headcanon that Eizen smokes comes from the map action in Berseria where you can burn vines using a flint Eizen gave you (and how every time we did it, my friend would say, "I love how we're not using artes or a Sorcerer's Ring or anything, we're just using Eizen's lighter"). And I'm too self-indulgent for my own good so I had to include it.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!?

The sun had just slipped below the horizon, the lingering deep oranges and reds that painted the sky dying the gently rippling surface of the Southern ocean in the blazing colours of fire. Zaveid made his way down to the quiet Yseult docks towards familiar crimson sails, tightly gripping a newly stolen bottle of rum and two short glasses in his hands. As he approached he could just barely see a silhouetted figure perched high on the edge of the crow’s nest.

 

“Well if it isn’t Eizen!” Zaveid shouted, as if he had simply stumbled upon him rather than following rumours of the Van Eltia’s location for weeks in order to find him, completely uncertain the entire time as to why he even wanted to find Eizen so badly in the first place. “Mind if I join you?”

 

“Zaveid!” Eizen called down, a surprised-but-pleased huff of laughter in his voice. “Come on up!”

 

A broad grin spread across Zaveid’s face as he leapt onto the ship’s deck and ascended the impossibly long ladder to the crow’s nest, little gusts of wind beneath his feet quickening his pace. He dropped down to sit on the platform when he reached the top, leaning back against the mast.

 

“Brought you something,” he said, lifting the bottle of rum into the air like he was giving a toast. “A local delicacy. Want some?”

 

Eizen shifted to face Zaveid, one leg bent at the knee and the other still dangling over the edge. “Sure,” he replied, and breathed out deeply. Pale wisps of smoked swirled into the breeze from his nose as he exhaled.

 

Eizen had taken up smoking on occasion, Zaveid noticed, when there was a lot on his mind. He rolled the cigarettes himself, with a special kind of paper and a special kind of tobacco that he had explained in entirely too much detail when Zaveid had asked. Gross – but the whole process seemed to calm him, to let him sort through his thoughts.

 

“You know that’s bad for you,” Zaveid chided half-heartedly before yanking the cork free from the bottle with his teeth.

 

“We all have our vices,” Eizen said pointedly.

 

“I have no idea what you might be implying,” Zaveid declared with a laugh.

 

Eizen stifled a chuckle and then took a drag on his cigarette, its end glowing bright against the rapidly darkening evening sky.

 

Zaveid poured the rum and handed one glass over to Eizen. Eizen absently took the glass, brow furrowed in concentration as he blew a smoke ring, cursing under his breath when the breeze immediately destroyed it.

 

Zaveid let out a devious cackle. “Nice tongue work! I bet that makes you popular with the  _ ladies _ .”

 

Eizen rolled his eyes, extinguishing his cigarette and taking a swig of his rum. “So what brings you here, Zaveid?”

 

“The local delicacy,” he lied, and took a large swig himself. “And what are  _ you _ doing here? Not in Yseult, but –” He swept one hand up into the air. “– all the way up here, when there’s a whole port city full of debauchery to get into?”

 

Eizen shrugged. “I like to feel the wind.”

 

Zaveid cackled again, giving a jokingly seductive roll of his hips. “I’m sure you do,” he purred, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

 

Eizen rolled his eyes again before sipping his rum, watching Zaveid over the edge of his glass. A sudden heaviness had descended upon them, the air between them feeling thick with something, sending Zaveid’s heartbeat into an odd frenzy to keep up. Even in the dark, it was unmistakable – Zaveid would proudly admit that he was used to people looking at him the way Eizen was looking at him now: eyes tracing the lines of his body, following his collarbones to linger on his chest before trailing lower, lower along the skin exposed by his open jacket to the belt slung low on his hips.

 

At that moment the breeze picked up, gently blowing Eizen’s hair into his face. It seemed to snap him out of it, and he looked away hurriedly, as if ashamed. Zaveid frowned, but quickly plastered a smirk back onto his face.

 

“Well, well,” he cooed, “I never would have expected you to be the type to play for the other team.”

 

Eizen gave a vague huff of breath in acknowledgement, studying Zaveid’s face with narrowed eyes. “And? Does that change anything?”

 

Zaveid reached over and patted Eizen a little too forcefully on the back. “Nothing at all!” he exclaimed with jovial confidence, although the prickling sensation spreading over his skin said something else entirely. He took a long drink to dispel the feeling, draining his glass. “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

 

The tension was still there, somewhere, though it had dissipated with the change of subject. Eizen’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

 

“Go ahead.”

 

Zaveid refilled his own glass, and topped off Eizen’s, leveling a serious look at him. “None of your crew can see you anymore, can they?”

 

“No,” Eizen replied, and took a long swallow of his rum. “I think Benwick might be able to sense my presence sometimes, when it’s really quiet, but none of them seem to be able to see me or hear me now.”

 

“That’s not surprising. But what I don’t understand is why you stay on the Van Eltia.”

 

“I love this ship,” Eizen said, eyes drifting out over the ocean forlornly. “Besides, whether they can see me or not, my crew needs me.”

 

“They need your curse?” Zaveid blurted with an incredulous huff, and then nearly flinched when what he had said finally sunk in.

 

Eizen’s gaze shot back to Zaveid, his eyes narrowed, lips twisted into a frown. “What are you saying?” he ground out. “I’ve been on the Van Eltia for years. Every member of this crew is like family to me.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Zaveid quickly raised his hands in front of himself in defense, sloshing rum out of his glass with the momentum. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

 

Eizen’s narrowed eyes lingered on him a moment more before he sighed and turned his head away, eyelids slipping shut as he emptied his glass in one long gulp. He set the glass down on the planked floor of the crow’s nest with a heavy thud, slipped his hand beneath his jacket, and pulled a palm-sized wooden box decorated in black lacquer with gold-tinged inlays of a dragon flying among the clouds from his waistcoat pocket. The style of it reminded Zaveid of that daemon Eizen used to travel with – Rokurou? – and Zaveid wondered if it came from the Rangetsu clan, though he knew better than to ask Eizen questions about art and artifacts. The box pulled apart into sections, one containing cigarette papers, the other stuffed with bitter-smelling tobacco.

 

_ Hey _ , Zaveid thought,  _ I told you that was bad for you _ . But he decided not to say anything as he watched Eizen nimbly roll the tobacco up in the paper with well-practiced hands.

 

The breeze was getting colder now as night fully set in. Watery moonlight illuminated the edges of Eizen’s pale hair in silver as the wind ruffled the choppy strands. Zaveid’s fingers twitched as he idly considered casting an arte to make the wind pick up, just a little bit. Tousled was a good look for Eizen.

 

“You’re probably right,” Eizen said at last, so softly that the breeze nearly swallowed it up, but still loud enough that it almost startled Zaveid out of his skin. Why had he been thinking about messing up Eizen’s hair?

 

“I’m always right,” Zaveid heard himself say with practiced overconfidence.

 

A sharp, breathy laugh escaped Eizen’s mouth as he pulled a flint from his pocket and lit his cigarette. He took a long drag and tilted his head back with the exhale. Zaveid wanted to be disgusted by his filthy habit, but instead found himself watching the way the tendons in Eizen’s neck shifted subtly beneath his skin, mesmerized by the way the smoke rushed over Eizen’s lips and curled colourless threads up into the stars.

 

“If my hair smells like smoke after this, I’m pushing you into the ocean,” Zaveid scolded. Eizen ignored him.

 

“Listen, Zaveid,” Eizen said after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “There’s something I could use your help with, if you’re interested.”

 

Zaveid raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

 

“I’ve heard rumours of a cave that recently opened up here in Southgand, in the aftershocks of Innominat being sealed away. Supposedly, it’s a passage to ruins that have been buried underground for so long that no record of them exists.” Eizen glanced at Zaveid, eyes brighter than the stars. “Could be a lie, but I’ve been wanting to check it out either way. But I can’t really ask the crew to go with me...”

 

Zaveid hummed and brought a finger to his lips, making a show of considering his answer despite the fact that he knew he had no other obligations, despite the fact that it was quickly dawning on him that something like this was the exact reason he had tracked Eizen down. “I dunno, Eizen,” he said, “You wouldn’t consider sweetening the deal by inviting a few luscious babes along, would you?”

 

“Zaveid,” Eizen muttered, shaking his head in exasperation, though he was unable to hide the grin on his face. “It’s settled, then. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

“Uh, yeah... how about a little later than ‘first thing’?” Zaveid complained, wrinkling his nose.

  
  


-

  
  


It didn’t take an expert to tell that the caverns had been formed largely by earthquakes. The walls were shaky and unstable, ready to collapse at any time. Some sections yawned open into dark, bottomless ravines that cut through the path, with no way forward but for Zaveid to command the wind to carry them across; while other sections were rendered almost completely impassable by cave-ins, buried in jagged rock that Eizen had to force out of their way. It was only by malak artes, and quite a bit of luck, that they were able to continue on.

 

If Zaveid thought this was too much work to follow nothing but an unconfirmed rumour, he never expressed it, though Eizen could tell the journey was exhausting him.

 

“It’s a good thing our boy Maotelus is purifying the earth right now,” Zaveid joked through gritted teeth as they scaled a steep upward slope, sweat beading on his forehead and sticking loose hairs to his face despite the frigid underground temperatures, “or else we’d probably have all kinds of daemons to fight, along with everything else.”

 

Eizen considered apologizing to Zaveid for dragging him into this, but it was meaningless. They’d already come so far. They couldn’t turn back now.

 

Instead, he focused what he could spare of his remaining energy inward, opening a channel between his body and the earth. He planted his feet, clenched his fists, and forced the rocky ground beneath them to level out as much as he could manage, for as far ahead as he could manage without destabilizing the caverns further.

 

Zaveid stumbled with the sudden shift in incline, pitching forward into Eizen’s back. Eizen’s normally solid stance faltered with the impact, and his knees buckled. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact with the hard ground, when he felt Zaveid’s arms encircle his shoulders and pull him back up, their legs nearly entangling with backwards momentum as Zaveid just barely managed to steady the both of them.

 

“Thank you,” Eizen said, relieved.

 

Zaveid jumped back from him, as if he’d forgotten to let go until Eizen spoke. “You too,” he said, almost breathlessly. “That trick with the floor was pretty neat, but you didn’t have to do that. Walking uphill really tones the legs and glutes. Women love it.”

 

Eizen couldn’t help but let out a laugh – Zaveid was reliable in his single-mindedness, at least.

 

“Men love it too,” Zaveid added as an afterthought, practically whispering the words into Eizen’s ear, suddenly so close that Eizen could feel his hot breath against his neck as Zaveid gave him a meaningful elbow to the side.

 

If Eizen didn’t know any better, he would have read something into that. But it was Zaveid. Of course he was only patronizing him.

 

Eizen simply started forward again without so much as a glance at Zaveid. “Come on, let’s go,” he called back.

 

“So cold with my affections!” Zaveid exclaimed melodramatically as he rushed to catch up.

 

The going was easier for some time, a short reprieve during which a comfortable silence settled between the two. The path gradually began to get more rugged again, leading up to a sharp curve before completely falling away into a sheer cliffside. Before them stood a massive, open room, illuminated by thin beams of sunlight streaming in from somewhere high, high above. Time-worn pillars supported the tall ceiling from the floor far below, arranged in sets of twos leading back to a crumbling temple facade carved directly into the rock.

 

Zaveid stepped up beside Eizen and gave an impressed whistle that echoed endlessly through the caverns. “Looks like there was something to those rumours after all.”

 

Eizen’s eyes trailed from the precipice where they stood down to the ground below – much too far to jump, but the space was so well-preserved that he would only alter the earth here as a last resort. “Think you can get us down there?”

 

Zaveid scoffed, shooting Eizen a roguish smirk. “Oh, I can  _ definitely _ get us down there. Do you trust me?”

 

“Of course,” Eizen said without thinking, stopping short at the ease with which the words had come out of his mouth. His brow furrowed, considering it, and he found that he meant it completely. Zaveid, a man to whom Eizen was only tentatively connected by coincidence and situation – through his connection to Aifread, through their clashing ideals, through Eizen’s sense of duty to save a fellow malak who had ended up just as he would one day.

 

Through a promise, spoken atop that grassy mountainside over the Aldina Plains.

 

A promise that Eizen trusted Zaveid to keep, more than he trusted anything else in the world.

 

“Eizen, you ready?” Zaveid asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

 

“Ready.”

 

With that, Zaveid rushed forward with a manic laugh, catching Eizen around the waist with one arm and throwing them off the cliff. Eizen shouted in alarm, flailing to find purchase as they plummeted for the rocky ground. But Zaveid’s arm tightened on his waist, reassuring, and suddenly they were being supported from below by gently swirling air currents, guiding them rapidly but stably downwards.

 

“Yeah!” Zaveid yelled, pumping a fist into the air and tilting his body backwards to pull them both into a spinning loop as they floated.

 

Zaveid was laughing with such childish delight as the wind dumped them unceremoniously onto the floor in a tangle of limbs that Eizen found he couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up inside of him as well. Zaveid’s arm was still encircling his waist, unconsciously keeping him pressed a little too close, and Eizen felt as if the warmth of Zaveid’s body could burn him to ash at any moment. As the shaking that accompanied Zaveid’s laughter subsided, Eizen forced himself to stand, putting much more concentration than necessary into brushing the dirt off his jacket.

 

“You could’ve told me you were planning to do that,” Eizen remarked, offering Zaveid a hand up.

 

Zaveid gave him a lopsided grin and grabbed onto Eizen’s arm at the elbow, pulling himself to his feet. “Would you have let me do it?”

 

“Maybe.” Eizen shrugged, at least partially to shake Zavied’s hand off of his arm before he lost his mind. For someone with such a lustful attitude, Zaveid seemed pretty clueless about what his joking around was doing to Eizen.

 

A surprised laugh burst out of Zaveid’s mouth. “Maybe you’re more fun than I thought, Mr. Reaper! We should do this more often!”

 

“Sure,” Eizen said absently as he started towards the temple entrance that stood imposingly before them.

 

The massive stone doors stood open a fraction, just enough to slip inside. Beyond that was only darkness. But if Eizen concentrated, he could sense the shape of the rock: one huge, open entrance room, leading into a narrow hallway, and a second room at the back with some kind of large stone altar at the center.

 

“Shall we?” Zaveid said, slipping past him into the door.

 

Eizen sighed and followed.

 

The room was even darker than it looked from outside the doors, the air damp and stiflingly heavy. Unable to see even his hands in front of his face, Eizen simply followed the echoing sound of Zaveid’s boots, hands held palm forward before him. Eventually he felt rough, cold stone against his fingertips – the back wall, covered in intricate carved reliefs that he wished more than anything he could see. With nowhere else to go, he followed the wall until he reached a corner that lead into the narrow hallway he had sensed from outside.

 

“Eizen,” Zaveid’s strained voice echoed back through the hallway as his footsteps ceased. “Do you feel that?”

 

The air around Eizen was so heavy, much heavier than it had been at the entrance. Unnaturally heavy. He could feel a massive pressure on his back, threatening to send him to his knees.

 

“Malevolence!” he choked out, as loud as he could with his throat constricting, with no air in his lungs. “Where is it all coming from?”

 

“Who cares! We’re getting out of here!” Zaveid shouted from what seemed like everywhere at once.

 

Eizen grit his teeth, a pained cry tearing out of him as he struggled to keep upright, clinging to the wall. He could feel his body beginning to absorb it: the anguish, the fear, and the hatred that seemed to bubble up from the innermost room of the temple until it rushed like a torrent over him. It wasn’t the most powerful malevolence he’d felt, but it could still easily overtake him all the same. The pressure was pushing him closer and closer to the ground, his legs shaking, his fingers losing their grip and sliding weakly down the wall.

 

“Oh no, I am not losing you here!” Zaveid yelled.

 

Suddenly, the whole room was illuminated by the pale green glow of a powerful wind arte. A swirling burst of air came flying down the hallway, funneling into an intense concentration of wind by the narrow walls before it slammed into Eizen’s middle with enough force to throw him backwards out of the door. He landed hard on his back, rolling onto his side involuntarily as his stomach heaved from the impact.

 

“Come on, come on, we don’t have time for you to throw up!” Zaveid shouted, nearly tripping over Eizen as he burst from the door.

 

Zaveid grabbed Eizen’s arm and dragged him up, forcing him to stumble into an immediate run. Eizen’s head was spinning, but he could feel a healing arte weaving in airy drafts around his body as the wind lifted his feet to hasten every unsteady step. Zaveid was still clinging onto him, pulling him along.

 

“I’m fine,” Eizen called out, feeling decidedly less than fine. “You can let go.”

 

“Shut it,” Zaveid called back. “We’re going up –” He tilted his head to the sun streaming in from above. “– but I could use a little boost. And don’t give me any lip about destroying ancient architecture or whatever.”

 

Eizen groaned. “Fine!”

 

“On three, then!” Zaveid shouted. “One… two…”

 

Eizen slammed one foot into the ground as hard as he could while still running, and a tower of earth surged up beneath them, launching them upwards into a cyclone that threw them into the open air above. The bright sunlight momentarily robbed Eizen of his vision as he reached out, grappling for a ledge, and somehow managed to find one. He pulled himself up with all he could muster, rolling onto his side away from the opening as soon as he hit the hard ground.

 

Zaveid was on his back beside him, staring up at the sky, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “What  _ was _ that place?”

 

Eizen breathed deeply against the pain in his ribs, trying to calm his racing heart. “I’ve heard of cults arising in corrupt and fearful times that practice human sacrifice,” he said, voice still strained from exertion. “If I had to guess, this was a temple for one such belief. I just wish I could take a closer look at it. There’s lost history here. This place could teach us so much…”

 

Zaveid sat up suddenly, glaring down at Eizen with more sincerity than Eizen thought him capable of. “You are not going back in there,” he ground out.

 

“I wasn’t –” Eizen began, but his voice suddenly wouldn’t cooperate. Something in the way Zaveid was looking at him…

 

And then, Zaveid leaned down and kissed him.

 

Eizen froze. Not even Zaveid would take a little teasing this far, would he?

 

Zaveid jerked away the second he noticed Eizen’s unresponsiveness, eyes wide. “Eizen, I-I’m sorry,” he blurted, “I don’t know – A lot just happened and I – maybe I misread the signs, and –”

 

Eizen sat up carefully as Zaveid stumbled over his words, wincing at the dull ache in his abdomen, and gently laced the fingers of his left hand through Zaveid’s hair. Zaveid’s mouth snapped shut.

 

“It’s ok, Zaveid,” Eizen said softly, studying Zaveid’s face closely, brushing loose white strands behind his ear. Zaveid drew a deep, shaky breath, closing his eyes as he relaxed into the touch, and Eizen took the chance to lean in and press their lips together again. The way Zaveid enthusiastically pushed back against him, and the tiny hitch in his breath when Eizen ran his hand into the hair at the base of his neck, dispelled any doubt Eizen had left.

 

Eizen smirked. “And you said  _ I _ didn’t seem like the type,” he murmured against Zaveid’s lips.

  
  


-

  
  


“Your hair is really getting long,” Eizen mused, giving Zaveid a comfortably flirtatious smirk. “I like it.”

 

“Thought you would,” Zaveid said with a wolfish grin, slinging one leg over Eizen’s hips and guiding him to lie back on their usual vacant inn’s creaky mattress. “You oughta try pulling it.”

 

Eizen let out a shaky, lust-filled laugh, brushing his fingers gently back through the silvery strands. “I won’t.”

 

And Zaveid knew he wouldn’t – knew exactly how Eizen would do anything at all, after hundreds of years of always coming back to him no matter how hard he tried to stay away.

 

At first he’d decided to keep it a one-time thing, but he only lasted about two months before he found himself falling into bed with Eizen again. They kept things casual, of course – Eizen wasn’t his only lover, just his most frequent, and Eizen knew that. But so much of the supposed casualness was built upon lies Zaveid told himself to keep from having to acknowledge that it had become something more.

 

He must not have noticed when it began, because he would have done everything he could to stop it from happening. If there was one thing he didn’t need, it was attachment. Losing Theodora had taught him that the hard way.

 

He didn’t want it. Didn’t need it.

 

Eizen would tell him to steer his own ship, to determine his own course in life – but Zaveid was beginning to wonder if he really had any control over it at all.

 

“What’s wrong, Zaveid?” Eizen whispered, breath ghosting over Zaveid’s ear. Alway too attentive, too patient for his own good. Zaveid wished Eizen was content to just fuck and get it over with – it would be so much easier that way.

 

“No feelings,” Zaveid replied, trying his best to sound irritable, “just fun. Ya dig?”

 

Eizen pulled back just enough to look Zaveid in the eye. “Are you sure that’s ok? That’s what you want?”

 

_ No _ .

 

“Yes,” Zaveid hissed through his teeth with a roll of his hips.

 

Eizen gasped at the friction, reversing their positions to place hungry kisses at the junction of Zaveid’s neck and shoulder. “Tell me if you change your mind,” he murmured against Zaveid’s skin.

 

But through the heady tension between them, Zaveid could still hear the slightest tone of disappointment in his voice.

 

_

  
  


Eizen paced at the base of Rayfalke Spiritcrest, rolling himself a fourth cigarette in trembling fingers. It was just as he feared when he had first sensed the powerful malevolent domain centered somewhere in the hills around the Griflet River: its reach came entirely too close to the mountains where his sister dwelled.

 

There was no doubt in his mind about what he needed to do to protect her, just as there was no doubt about what would become of him when it was done. And he was prepared for that, had been for over a thousand years. But he hesitated. Despite his curse, and despite the malevolence he already carried within him, he wanted to see Edna one last time. To tell her goodbye.

 

He took a long drag of his cigarette as his walking speed increased. Edna wasn’t a little kid anymore, hadn’t been for centuries now. She would understand. She was so strong, stronger than Eizen could ever hope to be. She could handle it.

 

He couldn’t bear the thought of causing her any more pain than he already had, but she deserved to know.

 

After one final drag of the cigarette, he dropped it to the rocky ground, grinding it under the toe of his boot.

 

Edna was almost exactly where he had last seen her, perched on a rock on the mountainside with her parasol leaning on her shoulder, leafing through a book. She glanced up as he approached, blinking in disbelief a few times before rushing forward to meet him with a shout of his name. Her book and parasol fell forgotten onto the ground behind her as she ran, rushed steps thudding with the weight of Eizen’s old hand-me-down boots she wore.

 

Eizen laughed as she crashed into him and wrapped her arms too tightly around his waist. “Hey there, Edna. You haven’t grown at all,” he said with a joyful laugh, ruffling her hair.

 

“And you smell like a tavern,” she shot back, voice wavering with emotion as she buried he face into Eizen’s shirt.

 

Eizen fought back the urge to scold her for knowing what a tavern smelled like, reminding himself that she was nearly eight hundred years old now. He swallowed thickly around the constricting feeling in his throat at the thought. It had been centuries since he’d left her here alone, his dearest chosen family. He’d be absent for so much of her life.

 

“I missed you,” she croaked out as if she’d read his mind, and Eizen could feel hot tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt.

 

He knelt down to her height and wrapped his arms around her tiny shoulders. “I missed you too, little sister.”

 

“You’re back to stay now, right?” Edna murmured, face now pressed up against his right shoulder.

 

Her words cut worse than anything an enemy had ever inflicted upon him. Eizen swallowed heavily again, letting his eyelids fall shut against the stinging in the back of his eyes.

 

And before he could stop himself, the lie was already out of his mouth. “Of course.”

 

The words tasted bitter, choking him like sawdust on his tongue. Edna gave a delighted laugh, pulling away to wipe the tears from her face, and Eizen felt as if his world had fallen out from under him.

 

It would only make it harder for her in the long run, but he couldn’t take it back now.

 

“There’s something I need to take care of,” he said, unable to look her in the eye as he continued his lie. “But I’ll come back here. I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to come back here.”

 

“What’s with the theatrics?” Edna said with narrowed eyes, before giving a flippant wave of her hand. “You were always such a drama queen. Just don’t do anything stupid, ok?”

 

Eizen stood and ruffled her hair one more time.

 

_ Goodbye, Edna. _

  
  


-

  
  


Zaveid leaned back in his chair, staring out the window across the sun dappled path to the half-built house facing the inn. The little village of Marlind was starting to grow into a proper city. Good for the humans, he supposed, but not great for the seraphim. Cities were always breeding grounds for malevolence.

 

If Eizen was in the area – and Zaveid had it on good information that he was – he would come here. He always did.

 

Zaveid tapped his fingers against the table impatiently. “Come on, Eizen,” he groaned, knowing that no one could hear him, “I’ve been here almost all day now.”

 

Zaveid had taken to directing little currents of air to blow patrons’ napkins off their tables in his boredom by the time Eizen arrived. The bartender looked up at the door opening and closing all by itself, cursing about “that damned wind” under her breath.

 

“Figured I’d find you here,” Eizen said, giving a grin that looked just a little too forced. “I could really use a drink.”

 

“You’re in luck,” Zaveid declared, sitting up and reaching under his chair to grab a nearly full bottle of that awful whiskey Eizen liked so much, waving it around in the air. A man sitting in the opposite corner who had been drinking heavily since Zaveid got there watched the floating whiskey bottle blearily before dumping some gald on the table, muttering about having too much as he unsteadily hurried out of the inn.

 

Eizen grabbed the whiskey from Zaveid’s hands, removing the cork and taking a huge swig directly from the bottle as he dropped heavily into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

 

Zaveid frowned deeply. “Whoa, what’s wrong? You hate it when I don’t use a glass.”

 

Eizen set the bottle on the table with a thud, leveling Zaveid with a serious stare. The ever-present bags under his eyes were the heaviest he’d ever seen them. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

 

“You mean that domain?” Zaveid asked, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I feel it.”

 

Eizen took another long drink, closing his eyes and letting the whiskey sting the inside of his mouth for a moment before swallowing. “It extends right up into the foothills of Rayfalke Spiritcrest.”

 

Zaveid exhaled through his teeth before grabbing the bottle and taking a swig himself. This stuff really didn’t go down easily; he could never understand why Eizen liked it so much.

 

“There are – what? – three or four shepherds traveling the world right now, right?” Zaveid said at last. “One of them will take care of it.”

 

“Oh, yeah? And just where are these shepherds right now? And how far have they progressed in their training? Are they strong enough?” Eizen shot back through gritted teeth, slamming a hand down on the table. “You know as well as I how much that domain’s power has been growing every day. Edna’s in those mountains, Zaveid. I don’t have time to wait for a shepherd.”

 

Zaveid froze, eyes widening in alarm. “Eizen, what are you saying?”

 

Eizen closed his eyes for a moment, his blunt nails pressing into his palms where he clenched and unclenched his fists on the table. When he met Zaveid’s gaze again his eyes were clouded with something like bittersweet resignation, and Zaveid could just punch him.

 

“I came to say goodbye,” Eizen said plainly, standing and turning for the door to hide the strained look on his face. “It’s been good, Zaveid.”

 

“Wait!” Zaveid shouted, standing up so suddenly that he knocked his chair over backwards, startling the humans in the inn into a frenzy of nervous chatter. Eizen was already slipping out the door in the commotion, and so Zaveid chased after him. “Are you insane?” He reached out for Eizen’s arm at the top of the steps the lead down from the inn’s deck, but Eizen jumped to the ground below, leaving Zaveid grasping at thin air. “This could be a new Lord of Calamity, you realize that? With that much malevolence, you’ll –”

 

“I know,” Eizen replied calmly, never slowing his pace or turning back. “But I have to do this. I’m almost two thousand years old, Zaveid. It’s my time now. I’m ready.”

 

“But what if  _ I’m _ not ready?” Zaveid shouted over the sound of the wind he’d summoned to hurry himself to Eizen’s side.

 

Eizen glanced at him for just a moment as he stumbled into his landing before looking pointedly forward again. “And what if you’re never ready? It’s going to happen to me sooner or later. At least this way you know it’s coming.”

 

Zaveid sputtered, wanting to argue… but Eizen had a point. Eizen’s pace slowed to normal, and Zaveid fell silently into step beside him, desperately trying to come up with any way to stop him.

 

“Listen, Eizen,” he said after an extended silence, “You’ll be taking out a dangerous hellion, sure. But a dragon is dangerous too.”

 

Eizen breathed a short, bitter laugh. “Isn’t that why you’re following me?” he suggested, his voice more gentle and caring than it had any right to be. “Because of our promise?”

 

That wasn’t even half the reason. The thought made Zaveid ill.

 

“Only once you’ve stopped being yourself,” Zaveid breathed.

 

The malevolence was getting thicker and thicker in the air as the terrain began to give way into grassy rolling hills. Zaveid could feel it pressing down on him, constricting his lungs, leaving every breath shallow and insufficient. He could tell Eizen was struggling even more under the weight of it, but he refused to show it. He just kept pressing on.

 

Zaveid realized with an uncomfortable twist of his stomach that even centuries of refusing to become attached to anyone hadn’t worked. For so long it had been easier to pretend that Eizen wasn’t important to him, but knowing what they were about to face made it too exhausting to keep lying to himself. He had made a promise back then, as the life faded from anything that might have been left of Theodora – but now that it wasn’t just a distant future hypothetical anymore, he didn’t know if he could watch that happen all over again. He didn’t know if he could withstand it.

 

_ So much for ‘Zaveid the Oathkeeper’ _ .

 

They were deep into the domain now. The land was dyed in the colours of fresh bruises beneath their feet, and unnatural lightning struck from the blackened sky above, arcing between the skeletons of trees. A ghastly shriek echoed around them from just over the next hill, the mingling cries of the deepest of human hatred and pain twisted into something monstrous.

 

Whatever was creating this domain had noticed them.

 

“You need to stay back,” Eizen said suddenly, his voice strangled. “It wouldn’t do for you to become a dragon, too.”

 

Zaveid looked his way to see dark clouds of malevolence gathering over Eizen’s body, hanging heavily on him like a cloak. Even despite that, Zaveid wanted to take Eizen in his arms and kiss him like a hero in a romance, as if this could have any semblance of a happy ending.

 

But he didn’t. It wasn’t their style.

 

“Fine,” Zaveid choked out instead, the darkness nearly swallowing his voice up.

 

Eizen turned and gave him a good, long look, full of so much affection it made Zaveid want to run. “Don’t go back on your promise, Zaveid,” he said. “I’m counting on you.”

 

A goodbye. Eizen turned away and started up the hill.

 

“Only once you’ve stopped being yourself,” Zaveid repeated firmly to his retreating back. “Only after there’s nothing left of you.”

  
  


-

  
  


The hellion took the form of a giant serpent, armoured in splintered bone charred black, with eyes that burned out of the haze of darkness that surrounded it like blazing stars. It shrieked again when it saw him, the sound rending the sky and rumbling the earth.

 

Eizen was not afraid.

 

The change had been coming over him for well over a thousand years, but now he could feel it speeding up exponentially. The blood boiled in his veins as the malevolence flowed freely into his body, twisting him up, building upon his form. The bones in his fingers snapped and reset, snapped and reset, over and over, extending into claws. Razor-sharp blades of malevolence shot straight through him, tearing out of his back into the shape of wings. A visceral scream of pain tore from his throat in a voice that was not his own.

 

“I’m here to kill you,” he roared in that otherworldly voice, and soared up into the air, diving for the serpent.

 

He could see the fear and the hesitation in the hellion’s eyes as he rushed towards it. Good. This would be easy.

 

All he had to do was let go.

 

Eizen tore into the hellion with impossibly sharp claws, with powerful jaws and teeth like daggers, as if by some will other than his own. The serpent shrieked again, this time in terror. Its domain was dissolving away to nothing as Eizen’s body drew it all in.

 

With a final inhuman grown, he ripped the serpent to shreds, its life force crumbling to dust. The remaining malevolence streamed slowly into Eizen like a river into the sea. His vision was waning in and out, the tide coming and going, but he could just barely make out the sight of Zaveid running up over the hill. 

 

Eizen could feel himself fading. Zaveid had to kill him now, while he could still hold back.

 

“Zaveid, now!” he screamed, as the searing pain and crushing pressure overtook him, grinding away what little was left, a shipwreck dashed against the rocks.

 

_ I’m sorry, Zaveid. I’m so, so sorry, Edna. I hope, with time, you can forgive me. _

 

And with that thought, the last threads of Eizen’s consciousness shattered, and he drifted away.

  
  


-

  
  


The dragon stood towering in the valley below, experimentally stretching its new wings over hard scales coloured in earthen browns. It inhaled deeply, its immense breath seeming to alter the patterns of the wind itself. Zaveid watched from the hill above, every inch of his body trembling uncontrollably.

 

“I heard you speaking just now!” Zaveid cried out. “There’s still some of Eizen left in that scaly head of yours, isn’t there?!”

 

The dragon threw its head back and let loose and earth-shaking roar before taking to the air.

 

“I told you, not until there’s nothing left! But how can I be sure when that is?!”

 

Zaveid leapt into the air as the dragon landed beside him, just barely avoiding being knocked down from the force of its body slamming into the ground. His vision went blurry as tears began to stream in unstoppable torrents down his face, but he didn’t care anymore. The dragon swiped at him with massive claws, and Zaveid dropped and rolled to the side.

 

“What were you thinking anyway, Eizen?! This isn’t even fair!”

 

He scrambled to his feet just in time to jump away from those claws swiping at him again. “It’s not fair at all! You saved your sister. Probably saved the whole damn world! But now what am I supposed to do?” He knew he was rambling, that his words were having no effect, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “How do you expect me to kill a dragon all by myself, anyway? Sure, you did it, but you also had two daemons, an exorcist, the Storyteller of Time,  _ and _ the future Maotelus on your side! Velvet was the Lord of Calamity back then, for crying out loud!” His voice was growing hoarse. “I’m just one guy!”

 

A rock lance burst from below and slammed directly into Zaveid, throwing him back to skid across the ground when he landed. The dragon, seemingly too disinterested to continue their fight, took to the sky, slowly disappearing into the distance.

 

“Hey!” Zaveid yelled after it, swiping his arm across his eyes to clear the tears from his vision. “I’m not done with you yet!” He planted his feet and cast the most powerful wind arte he could after the dragon, even knowing perfectly well that it was already too far away.

 

He couldn’t reach him anymore.

  
  


-

  
  


Zaveid settled down cross-legged before the tiny gravestone Edna had constructed at the height of Rayfalke Spiritcrest, absently tracing patterns into the dirt with his fingertips.

 

It was finally over. He finally kept his promise to Eizen.

 

Sorey and the others were probably already halfway down the mountain by now, but it didn’t matter. Zaveid would meet up with them in Ladylake. For now, he needed to be right where he was.

 

“Hey,” he said softly to the earth where Eizen had certainly returned. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Guess I really couldn’t do it by myself.”

 

A sigh escaped his lips. He leaned back on his hands and turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of the sandy clay between his fingers.

 

“You would like this new Shepherd. Sorey. Him and his boy Mikleo would listen to you talk their ears off about ruins and artifacts or whatever for hours and actually  _ enjoy _ it.” A bittersweet grin spread across his face. “Edna’s doing well too. She’s really matured. All of this was hard on her, but she’s always been stronger than she looks; you said so yourself. She’s a real cutie, too – and don’t come back from the dead to hit me for saying that, ok?”

 

Zaveid pitched forward and jumped to his feet.

 

“There were… a lot of things I should have told you, while I still had the chance. Even though I think you knew. It’s not my style, but still, I should have told you,” he added, brushing the dirt off of his hands. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday. But for now, I’m not spoiling the surprise.”

 

The wind picked up, howling over the jagged mountainside, tangling Zaveid’s hair as he turned away.

 

_ Goodbye, Eizen. _

  
  


-

  
  


It was well past midnight when Zaveid made it back to the inn at Ladylake. Edna was drinking alone at the empty bar, perched on a barstool with her knees hugged to her chest. She sipped a fruity little concoction clearly of her own making, complete with a tiny paper umbrella.

 

“Mind if I join you?” Zaveid asked with half-hearted smarm.

 

“If you have to,” Edna muttered into the rim of her glass. She didn’t look up, but Zaveid could tell her eyes were still red and puffy.

 

“He talked about you all the time, you know?” Zaveid circled around the bar, taking stock of their selection. They didn’t have Eizen’s favourite whiskey – of course, because it hadn’t even been made in over a hundred years – so Zaveid just poured himself a glass of the strongest-sounding thing they had. “I think his whole world revolved around you. No matter where he went, the first thing he would want to do was write you a letter about it.”

 

“You’re being less of a creep than usual,” Edna said, wrinkling her nose but still not looking up. “It’s weird.”

 

Zaveid plopped down onto the stool next to her and took a good, long drink, wincing at the way it stung his throat when he swallowed. Edna wasn’t exactly encouraging him to keep talking, but she wasn’t telling him to shut up either, so he decided to keep going.

 

“He would have been proud of the woman you’ve become.”

 

“Of course he would’ve,” Edna replied flippantly, but she finally looked up at Zaveid with a new spark of life in her eyes.

  
“Yeah,” Zaveid said, “He would’ve been proud.”

 

 


End file.
